


Intense Method Actors

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Bathroom Sex, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Filming, First Time, Humor, M/M, Romance, Shakespeare, Slash, Smut, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-27
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So you don't actually think we're intense method actors?" – Chris in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsX0Cgs7qso">some random interview</a>.  First meeting fic, playing with the different accounts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intense Method Actors

**Title:** Intense Method Actors  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <\--  
 **Pairing:** Zach/Chris  
 **Author's Notes:** "So you don't actually think we're intense method actors?" – Chris in [some random interview](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsX0Cgs7qso). First meeting fic, playing with the different accounts.

 

 

"What's your name again?"

"Zach."

Chris laughs. "Huh. Somehow you're just not as intimidating now that I know you have a boring-ass Biblical name."

"Hey, it's not as boring as your name—I do have a Z in mine, you gotta give me that at least."

Chris dismisses that with a wave. "My name's the awesomest kind of Biblical name."

"Huh?"

"Um, Chris, Christ, hello?"

Zach makes a face. " _Yeah_ I don't think that's quite how it works."

Chris shrugs. "Whatever," he mutters.

"What?"

Chris raises his voice against the thumping beat of the music. "I said, 'whatever'!"

"Hey, do you wanna go somewhere a little quieter?"

"What?"

Zach laughs, grabs Chris's sleeve. "Just come on."

There's people hanging out in the next room over but that's okay—the deafening music's at an echo now.

"That's better!" Zach says too loudly, gets a roomful of looks.

Chris laughs. "Tone it down, there, dude."

They walk into a more or less deserted corner by a distractingly nondescript lamp. Zach sips from the plastic cup in his hand, frowns. "Man, this sucks."

Chris shrugs. "Free booze. Can't expect much."

Zach drags two random chairs together. "I just expected better from Bryce, that's all."

Chris sits in the chair across from Zach. "Eh, he's got a lot of thirsty patriots to think about. I mean, what do you do—spring for the good stuff and just let us commie liberals in or do you do the bipartisan jig and sacrifice alcoholic quality?" Chris takes a drink. His eyes are bright and captivating.

Zach clears his throat. "That's deep."

"I know, I know." Chris scoots forward on his chair, peers at Zach with those eyes. "Nah, I take it all back—you're still kinda scary even with a boring-ass name like Zach."

Zach musters an evil look, tries not to break character when Chris backs away, looks equal parts startled and amused.

"I'm sorry, man," Chris says. "I'm acting like some dumb ditzy interviewer who goes on and on about being scared and/or aroused by Sylar." He grins.

Zach makes a show of thinking about it. "Yeah, pretty much. You're aroused?"

Chris laughs it off, speaks nonchalantly and at odds with the slow glance he gives Zach through his lashes. "Well, I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, Zach. You know, to dispel all those irrational gut reactions."

Chris's voice is kind of mesmerizing so Zach figures he'd better change the subject. "So yeah, how do you know Bryce?"

"Uh . . . you know, we're friends. You?"

"Oh uh, he's my, uh—"

"Boyfriend?" Chris is entirely too smug.

"Personal trainer," Zach admits grudgingly, feels oppressively Hollywood.

"Ah, is _that_ what the kids are calling it these days?"

"No, seriously—"

Chris laughs. "Sorry, sorry. He's my personal trainer too, I just go around saying we're friends now. Sounds less obnoxious."

"Wait, seriously? _Ohhh_ you're _that_ Chris. Okay. Okay this makes a lot more sense now. I knew you looked vaguely familiar."

Chris snorts. "What, you mean you haven't seen the Princess Diaries sequel?" He takes another, longer drink, licks his lip after. He's kind of pale for a hot young actor in LA but that only accentuates the color of his mouth, the clearness of his eyes.

"Um, no. I'm not _that_ gay."

"You sure about that?" Mischievous, and then he shrugs. "I am."

Zach raises his eyebrows.

"Too much? Sorry—I thought we were playing state the obvious." Chris smiles.

Zach laughs in disbelief. "Dude, you don't—my gaydar is not—I mean, _you_? There's not a vibe."

Chris shrugs again. "Whatever. I'm actually straight."

"Um . . ."

"I mean bi. I mean gay. I mean—" His smile is bright and fucking evil before he hides it to take a drink, licks his lips after, distracting.

Zach follows suit, takes a healthy gulp of the shitty beer to buy some time. "So did you come right from the official Rock the Vote thing or—"

"Nah, just got here actually. I went home first. My place isn't too far so I figured I'd walk over since parking's a bitch on this entire block."

"You live in Silver Lake? I've never seen you around before."

"No? Wait, you live around here?"

"Yeah, and I have a dog so the two of us have a decent working knowledge of who our neighbors are. And, y'know, which ones will freak if Noah takes a crap on their lawns."

"Noah equals dog, right?"

"No, I just have this tendency to shit on my neighbors' lawns."

But Chris is deep in thought. "Actually that's a slightly less boring Biblical name than Zach. I mean, look at all Noah accomplished . . ."

"Dude, your preoccupation with the Bible is kind of a turn off. Just saying."

"Aw, shit. Maybe I should just talk less and drink more, hm?" Chris licks his lips again and it looks deliberately lascivious but _nobody_ actually licks their lips like that and is conscious of how blatantly sexual it is. Right?

Zach watches Chris finish off his drink, watches the color in his cheeks darken.

"Dude, I need more of this, stat."

Zach isn't sure about that but finds more beer for him anyway, downs the rest of his and takes the fresh new cup Chris presses into his hands and tries to concentrate on what he's saying through the gooey, unstable air. Ends up concentrating on the line of Chris's neck and his hands curled around the cup and the pink flush just behind his ears.

"So what are your hobbies?" Chris is asking him.

"Uhh . . . Dog. I told you about dog, about _my_ dog. Uh. Dictionaries. No, I mean it—shut up, asshole. Being employed. Caffeine. Alcohol—not this shit though," he clarifies. "Oh my God, and Eat 'n' Park. Oh _man_ I really wanna go to Eat 'n' Park right now . . ."

"Eat in what?"

"Oh my God don't even ask. Seriously. But oh my God so delicious and breakfasty and cheap . . ."

Chris is giggling.

" _What_?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just, you know you sound like a valley girl, right?"

"Oh my God, shut _up_."

It only sends Chris into a worse fit of giggles.

Zach's brain seems to think more alcohol is the solution to this so he nurses his drink while Chris gets a hold of himself.

"Hey, it's fucking crowded in here!" Chris announces like he's just discovered electricity.

"No shit." Zach doesn't wanna make a move.

"So come _on_ ," Chris says, edging through other peoples' conversations and beckoning for Zach to follow him.

Chris and Bryce must actually be friends if the way Chris knows his way around the guy's house is any indication. They somehow find a mostly empty, dimly lit corner in the hallway with a bench, and the shadows that cast over Chris's features seem to reinvent him into something cool and dark and dreamlike. Suddenly none of this is all that real, anymore.

This perception could have something to do with Zach's blood alcohol content, though, especially considering that the more Zach drinks the better Chris looks.

Zach sits next to him and Chris immediately scoots closer, warm leg up against his. "Hey, so. You ever do movies?"

Zach hesitates, not sure just how secret he's supposed to be about Star Trek. "Just getting into it, actually. Any tips?"

"Yeah. Don't bomb auditions. It's the worst. God. I've got a do-over audition in a couple of days and it's fuckin' nerve-wracking . . . don’t wanna fuck up again, y'know?"

"You'll be fine," Zach assures him, drinks more because the timbre of Chris's slurred scratchy voice is so engrossing it's like a temptation.

Chris has this permanently serious look on his face, in the set of his eyebrows. Troubled. But then his pouty mouth's hanging open unconsciously and his eyes are _bright_ even in the shadows. Zach knows he might be imagining this elaborate dichotomy but that doesn't make it any less fascinating.

He waits until Chris is drinking again to attempt stretching and nonchalantly draping his arm over the back of the bench. Chris totally notices though. The word's swimming a little too much for Zach to keep his thoughts in order, but this certainly _feels_ good.

"You coming on to me, stranger?" Chris asks, bats his eyelashes.

Zach laughs. "I would never be so forward."

"Wish you would," Chris mumbles, quiet and just for Zach, leans into him.

"Psh, you wouldn't want me, anyway."

"Mhmm, mhmm." Chris sits up a little straighter, faces him. "Once again, I'm gonna have to apologize for being annoying but—" And he lets his hand trail down Zach's chest. "You're _Sylar_ , come the fuck on."

*

"Oh my God."

"Nope, you gotta stop saying that," Chris tells him, cuts off his response with his mouth.

"No, I'm allowed, 'cause oh my fucking _God_ you're hot."

"Yeah? Well you're a slut."

"You're a slut."

"Damn right," Chris says, stops tugging Zach's shirt off to close and lock the door.

"Gah, it's way too bright in here." Zach gropes for the slidey thing that dims the lights but misses and flicks the vent on instead. The noise of it makes Chris jump and consequently stumble all over Zach, and that refreshes Zach's memory about how hard Chris is which makes Zach lightheaded _although_ , again, that could have something to do with the cheap-ass alcohol in his system. Chris's superheated body makes Zach forget all about his quest to dim the lights. Keeps Chris tight against him and sucks on his neck.

Chris grinds into him, moans, gets obsessed with yanking Zach's shirt off, grins bright and brief and links his arms around the back of Zach's neck to drag him to the other wall, and while they kiss Zach watches the muscles in Chris's throat working in the mirror, watches where his shirt's riding up, can barely hear Chris's little moans over the roar of the vent.

Zach pulls Chris's shirt over his head quick, runs his hands up his chest and attempts to taste every inch of pale, lightly freckled skin—subtle, dark gold body hair that changes and gets darker leading down over his stomach.

Chris is breathless. "Can't believe . . . I mean, in the _bathroom?_ . . . _ah_ , yes do that . . ."

Zach bites Chris's shoulder, continues palming him through his jeans. "Off," he says, hopes Chris understands.

Chris undoes his jeans, shameless, then sets to work on Zach's and the first brush of his fingers surprises a gasp out of him. Chris smashes his mouth against Zach's, pushes into the hand on his cock and jerks Zach's slow and teasing. It's a little too much sensation for Zach to process so he spins Chris around until he's trapped against the sink and staring at his own half-clothed, debauched visage the mirror. Chris laughs and closes his eyes to ward off drunken disorientation at first, then closes them tighter to moan and lean back into Zach when he presses up against him, catches Zach's eye in the mirror after a minute and just laughs again, shivering.

Tasting the back of Chris's neck—sweat, cologne—and watching him squirm, eyes fluttering back at him in the mirror, it's fucking hot, and his skin is warm under Zach's hands and he can feel Chris's heartbeat everywhere, but he keeps grinding back into Zach's cock and that's just not helping matters. Makes Zach too desperate to touch him. He spins Chris around again and Chris almost falls over, unable to stop laughing now and clutching at Zach for support—hot branding fingers, palm, wrist.

Making the rest of their clothes to go away is tough going in a cramped guest bathroom, especially when working with depleted brain cells. Zach knows it's a guest bathroom based on the improbably beach themed décor and the lack of any toiletries other than cheap, _cheap_ hand soap and Purell. To tell the truth, Zach is a little disappointed by Bryce's interpretation of home decorating, and so he doesn't feel particularly bad for knocking over a starfish and a scented candle to make room for Chris to hop up on the sink counter. Chris finally gets his jeans out of the way about the time Zach's finished (badly) folding his shirt and setting it on a pile of fluffy blue towels, never mind that the rest of his clothes are strewn over the floor, ceiling fan, shower head.

Chris's hand snakes into his hair and urges him closer until Zach mouths at his gorgeous pale skin from neck to chest to everywhere—hot, hot, sweat, sweet, freckle, golden, smooth—bright lights getting in Zach's eyes and overwhelming him just like Chris's perfectly pitched moans, the fingers tightening on his scalp and directing him.

The room rushes around Zach when he leans in to claim Chris's mouth and Chris makes an appreciative sound that vibrates between them, hands weak and firm and grappling haphazardly, everywhere. Zach bites at Chris's delectable lips, lets his mouth trail over the scruff on his cheek to get at his neck. Zach takes Chris's cock in hand and Chris throws his head back with a muttered curse. Zach licks back up Chris's exposed neck and sucks on his jaw while he jerks his cock, slow and teasing.

Chris's head snaps forward and the assault of his bright, bright eyes makes Zach's breath catch in his throat. Zach feels slightly hypnotized so he drops to his knees to escape, licks his lips before wrapping them around Chris's cock.

"God yes . . ." Chris whines.

Zach takes him deeper, presses his tongue along the underside of his cock before sucking hard. Zach feels Chris's moans more than he hears them.

Chris clearly hasn't gotten any in a long time—at least, he hasn't received any decent head in awhile if the way he reacts is any indication. Or it could be that he really is this much of a slut. Zach is more than cool with that.

The sounds he's making are so delectable and Zach is feeling so slutty himself—from booze, from Chris's goddamn voice—that he goes too fast. Sucks Chris deep and hard without further ado, jerks the base of his cock, teases his balls, lets his other hand trail up to toy with a nipple, relishes Chris's yelp and throaty moan. Chris's eyes keep rolling back and his grip tightens whenever Zach looks up at him, hums around the cock in his mouth.

Chris is getting close, trying to squirm away, muttering high, breathy warnings and _please_ 's that sound like he really just wants more. Zach gives one last drawn-out suck before submitting to Chris's scrabbling hands urging him upright. Chris sighs, looks dazed and wild, sets his sights on Zach and tugs him into a deep, dirty kiss. Tongues twining, the heat of Chris's body . . .

Chris smears his mouth away to form words. "You wanna fuck me now? Come on." He says it like a challenge.

"Yeah, okay." Zach catches sight of Chris's face again, lazy darkened eyes and persistent blush and panting, parted lips.

Chris leans closer and repeats himself, all hot breath and whimper: "Come _on_."

Zach swallows. "Yeah," he reiterates.

"Awesome," Chris says vaguely. "Lube?"

Shit. "Yeah, I'm not in the habit of packing sexual aids for political advocacy events." He pauses. "You don't have any?"

"No, what the fuck, why would I—?"

"Well you just assumed _I_ did."

"Okay, okay. Let's think about this." Chris pulls a deeply pensive face, scans the bathroom so dramatically that Zach laughs at him.

Chris grabs the hand soap by the sink. "Aha!" Presents it to Zach triumphantly.

"Softsoap," Zach says.

"What, you wanna use Purell? Seriously, man—"

"Well, that might actually be more hygienic . . ."

"Ugggh, we are not talking about this. Can we please just fuck and save the philosophical debate for later? _Jeez_ . . ."

Zach takes the hand soap from him, squirts some out into his palm. "The philosophy of Purell?"

Chris laughs, gasps when Zach slips a finger in.

Chris tries to kiss him but drastically misjudges the distance and almost topples over, laughs and clutches Zach's shoulders and grins. Zach adds another finger and Chris groans and pushes down.

"How's that?" Zach murmurs into his ear. Chris squirms and breathes harder. "Want more?" Zach adds a third finger without waiting for and answer.

" _Fuck_ ," Chris grits out, his hands digging into Zach's skin so hard he's probably leaving marks. "Condoms?" Chris tries to keep his eyes open to get his point across but they keep fluttering in time with Zach's fingers working inside him.

Zach shivers under his gaze and clears his throat. "Um . . . Well this is a bathroom, I mean there's gotta, gotta be something in here . . ."

Zach lunges for the medicine cabinet/mirror and scans it for condoms while Chris rummages in some random drawers. Zach finds one tucked away behind a bottle of unassuming painkillers, the wrapper worryingly dusty.

Chris kisses at his neck while Zach attempts to open the thing. "Dude, what is _taking_ so long? I'm fucking ready, come on . . ."

"Excuse me for checking the expiration date."

Zach rolls the condom on and Chris presents him with the ridiculous hand soap again and looks so amused that Zach can't suppress a world weary sigh. Chris laughs again—the boisterous quality to it starting to grate, but then Zach pushes his cock into him and Chris lets out a low moan and a shudder. Zach's breathless from the snug, pulsing heat of Chris's body, has to go deeper for more, hears everything coming out of Chris's mouth as encouragement.

Zach thrusts shallowly, trying to ensure this isn't over embarrassingly quickly, sees stars that sound exactly like Chris's harsh breathing bouncing off the tiles.

" _Ah_ ," Chris says abruptly, going still for a minute before just burying his fingers in Zach's hair and staring at him while he thrusts a little less carefully, a lot faster. " _Ah_ ," Chris says again. "Oh, God, shit, just—"

"There?"

" _There_ , shit just right fucking there— _ah_ , yes, yes, just—"

Zach puts a hand over Chris mouth. "Echoing. Bathroom. Party. And _God_ you feel amazing . . ."

Chris's laugh is muffled, morphs into a moan when Zach has to use both hands to hitch Chris farther up on the counter, thrust into him harder and keep his twitching hips still. Chris bangs his head against the mirror which reminds Zach it's there—he looks up and glimpses himself in abandon which turns him on in a weird way, watches his cock disappearing inside of Chris in the mirror, in real life, in the mirror, hears him say something that sounds simply delicious, thrusts deep and gets a shout and Chris's eyes wide and pleading at him.

It must be the dumb blue and brownish/goldish color scheme going on in the bathroom that's making Chris's eyes so fucking distracting, because watching them close and open _brightbrightbright_ in time with his thrusts, the ridiculous heat of Chris's body, is enough to push him over the edge, dizzy and sweaty and exhausted by lust.

Zach jerks Chris off and says unthinking, dirty words of encouragement into his mouth, kisses his plush, bruised mouth the whole time.

It's hard to remember anything after Chris comes except that Zach gets dressed faster, gets held up by some de facto acquaintance before escaping the party altogether. That he spots Chris far off in the crowd but that Chris doesn't see him. That he spends like ten minutes unlocking his front door and that he sleeps for like a day.

*

To be honest, Zach is getting annoyed with the mere concept of Kirk after weeks of reading with The One, The Last One I Promise, He's Our Guy, and We Have A Good Feeling This Time.

Zach is checking his phone during a break, away from J.J. and everyone when he hears the door at the end of the hallway open and shut. Doesn't look up until Good Feeling has already walked rapidly past him.

Zach sighs to his phone, Catholic guilt creeping. He has nothing against this guy, and it's pretty stupid to feel so inconvenienced by a project of this caliber, even if this _is_ turning into the most tedious casting in history. He's _lucky_ , and he's _grateful_ and he ought to be cordial to poor old Good Feeling.

And, yeah, if the appealing lines of his body in the way he walks and carries himself is the primary foundation of Zach's goodwill, then so what?

Zach walks up behind him. "Hi! I'm Zach. It's nice to . . . it's."

It's Chris.

It's _Chris Pine_. It's Chris drunken bathroom sex Pine.

"Oh," Chris says, utterly unhelpfully.

Luckily J.J. chooses that moment to swoop in, way too energetic. "Ah! I see you two have met," he beams.

"Oh," Zach echoes. "Yeah, we, uh, we live in the same neighborhood, we uh. We."

"—have the same personal trainer!" Chris announces, realizes how overeager he sounds and shuts up quick.

"Well!" J.J. says. "It'll just be a couple of minutes, okay, guys? Thanks again for coming in today, Chris." And he's gone. And they're alone.

"So yeah," Zach says, mostly to himself.

Chris just smiles and smiles and smiles and Zach's pretty sure he's going to pull a muscle. "Working with J.J—you're doing that!—how is working with J.J.?" he says all at once.

Okay, well that's an easy one, at least. "Dude, you've seen Lost, right? He's an evil genius. End of story."

Chris laughs a forced little laugh. "Yeah."

Goddammit, Zach was sure he had more positive things to say about J.J. than that. He totally did, once upon a time and before some slutty one night stand infiltrated his professional life. " _Yeah_ . . . so the weather's. The weather is. It's nice out. Today."

Chris shrugs. "I wish we had more seasonal weather. You're from like Pennsylvania right?"

"Actually I've kind of had my fill of two foot snowfall. So." Chris just smiles and nods until it makes Zach blurt out: "Are you stalking me or something?"

"No! What the fuck?"

"Well you know where I'm from and, I dunno, you're auditioning for this now, and—"

"I mean, I heard rumors you were in this but I mean. I mean, I didn't really _know_ . . ."

Some assistant cuts in: "They're ready for you."

Chris continues to smile, rushes in ahead of Zach.

Zach feels even guiltier now—there's no fucking _way_ Chris is going to land this role when they can't even make small talk together, how the fuck are they supposed to have _chemistry_?

*

Some people are social drinkers or social smokers—he and Chris are social best friends.

They don't talk at _all_ after Chris gets the role, not until a couple of weeks later when they have to meet with J.J. and the rest of the cast. A bunch of them all go out for coffee afterward and it's surprisingly easy to talk to Chris with the rest of the actors present.

And that's how it goes—official meetings followed by an inevitable social hour or two with the cast. It's weird, but he and Chris really do get closer through the endless string of rehearsals, costume fittings, drinks after hours. The awkwardness is nowhere to be seen as long as they're not alone.

It's easy to joke about their relationship when the others are present—casual touches became unthinking, flirtation a standard of any conversation, and most importantly, having people around forces them to find new things to talk about other than any potentially unresolved sexual tension.

There's a lot to talk about with Chris—a kind of surprising amount of things, actually. No topic seems off limits or uninteresting with Chris involved.

And Zach is starting to wonder if the night they'd met had been a particularly licentious figment of his imagination.

*

John and Karl go home early to have cyber sex with their wives or each other or something—their actual excuses are so lame they're not even worth mentioning. Sleep deprivation or some shit.

They'd been watching a movie, all of them scrunched together on the couch, which was fun and chummy and totally fine, but now Chris and Zach are left there alone, still scrunched, too lazy to move. And really alone.

Alone, alone, alone. It rings so taboo in Zach's head that he starts to freak out.

Chris has his head on Zach's shoulder and that's okay because now they have these affectionate gestures that everyone thinks are cute and amusing, and they don't mean anything.

Yes, they are alone, but Zach is forcing himself to accept that there's nothing terrifying about that. Because there isn't. There's nothing between them but a network of support and unresolved sexual tension.

Literally nothing between them. Practically no space at all—Chris is warm and heavy and pressed close and he's sleepy and he smells good.

. . . but Zach is just so extremely engrossed in this movie that he doesn't even notice any of that.

It's seven minutes later according to the clock on the VCR that he's been staring at like a zombie, and that's exactly when Chris starts kissing Zach's neck like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Zach jumps. "Woah, woah, what are you doing?"

Chris looks up at him in blue from the glow of the TV, studiedly innocent. "Um, kissing you. What the fuck?"

"No, you're not."

"Well it's either that or I'm some kinda vampire, so."

Zach contemplates vampire!Chris. "Nah, not brooding enough."

"Oh come on—I have a starving artist gene, you know. I can brood with the best of them," Chris protests, and before Zach can respond he leans in and kisses him. On the mouth, this time.

Zach lets himself be kissed for a minute, just to remember what Chris's mouth feels like, then pushes him gently away.

"Come on," Chris whispers, doesn't sound very optimistic.

"Bad idea. Working together." Zach knows it makes sense, he's just too tired to feel properly confident about it.

"Yeah, I know. I know. Sorry."

"Hey, it's fine. We're always gonna have this hanging over our heads, and we can deal. We have."

Chris sighs. "Having a conniption over here, man," he deadpans.

Zach laughs, impressed. "What, are you trying to one up me with the vocabulary now, Pine?"

"Not at all."

*

There's some time before the cast has to reconvene in LA for principal photography, so Zach doesn't see Chris for awhile, but that's okay—they're good. They're nice, casual friends and nice, casual coworkers who do _not_ have nice, casual sex. So that's nice.

Zach is in a waiting room, perusing a ridiculously outdated issue of People that is telling him about Donald Rumsfeld, current Secretary of Defense, when a familiar voice chimes in:

"Oh, what the fuck."

Zach looks up. Chris's hair is dyed blonde now and everything. "Teeth bleaching? Really, Pine?"

"Hey, _you're_ here too!"

Zach grins and laughs, pats the seat next to him. It's almost as ridiculous as that time at the tanning salon—that time wins, though, because they're both eternally pale as fuck.

*

Filming is fun, but also kind of grueling. Well, J.J.'s own personal brand of hyperactive grueling. All it really means is that the cast is required to go drinking at least once every weekend.

Chris stumbles through the bathroom door with him, kisses him the second it closes. "Déjà vu, much?" he murmurs against Zach's mouth. Chris's mouth tastes like ill-advised alcohol, and unfortunately that tastes really good on him.

"God, we have such good chemistry," Zach remarks, tugging ineffectively at Chris's shirt.

"You mean sexual tension," Chris corrects, and he pulls Zach closer by his belt and lets his hands wander.

"Yeah. Forgot how good you feel, Chris. Shit, come _here_." Zach's having trouble locating Chris's mouth, but then Chris helps and they're kissing deep and slow and perfect . . .

"No. No. Wait. Zach, wait." Chris staggers backward. "Listen to my theory, okay?"

Zach just stares at Chris's wet lips. "Sure thing."

"Listen, we do have good chemistry. I think, I think our chemistry—"

"—'chemistry'," Zach corrects, uses air quotes and everything.

"I just think it's kind of the reason I got the job in the first place. I think it really helps our performances, you know? _You know_ , Zach?"

"Yeah, I know. Jeez."

"I mean, you know, Kirk and Spock were totally doing it, right?"

"Yeah well no shit."

"Yeah! So we can't have sex."

"Yeah—wait, what?"

"We need the sexual tension. It's in-character!" Chris sways on his feet in his excitement.

"But you just said—"

Chris continues to babble: "After we're done with filming, maybe we can hook up. I mean, if we're even still feeling this way." Chris tries to laugh it off, but he's pretty obviously hard and his face is flushed and his eyes are _so bright_.

Zach sighs, blinks a couple of times to clear his head. "I mean, we have good chemistry," he shrugs, unsure of what he's implying.

Chris nods and pats him on the shoulder and escapes back into the bar.

*

Zach finds Chris in his dressing room on the last day of filming, winds his arms around his waist from behind and gets a startled gasp out of him.

"Flagitious wench," Zach greets.

"Strumpet."

"Yeah well maybe you should get your ass to a nunnery, already."

Chris laughs. "What's up?"

"It's the last day of filming."

"Hmm . . ." Chris turns around quick, leans in to kiss him so easily it makes Zach's world explode a little, and his eyes fall shut and he's about to grab he back of Chris's head and deepen the kiss when Chris pulls away wetly.

"I mean, there's still pickups and ADR and all that crap to do." Chris takes Zach's glasses off and traces one upswept eyebrow. "And if we're really going to make good on our drunken pact of yesteryear, don't you think we ought to wait 'til your eyebrows are back to their semi-natural state?" Chris smiles at him, cheeky.

Zach plasters an answering smile on his face, tries to calm the beating of his heart.

*

They still haven't ever really hung out alone. Sitting off to the side on the set was about as alone as they'd been in a long time. The other cast members assume they spend every waking moment together, and frankly, Zach is so comfortable with Chris that it seems like it could be true.

It doesn’t feel like they've grown closer so much as it feels like they've always been close, which is way too surreal a feeling to be genuine, and Zach is waiting for something to prove it wrong. The less time they spend together, the lower the chance of this happening.

So when they meet for coffee alone in-between the film's wrap and the world tour, it's kind of a milestone. It's usually easy to be with Chris, even when they haven't spoken for weeks, but their entourage is nowhere in sight, and it's harder to know how to talk to him like this.

"So," Chris begins, awkwardness setting in already. "Haven't heard from you in months."

 _Months?_ "Huh. I guess it has been months. No wait—Zoe's birthday thing."

"Oh yeah."

It doesn't seem like it counts—Chris had taken off early, hadn't seemed all that interested in catching up with Zach, hadn't really interacted with him beyond a smile and a _Hey_.

If they hadn't moved the damn release date back they'd probably be seeing a lot more of each other without having to break down and schedule times to meet on their own. Meeting For Coffee made things between them feel too official or too artificial or maybe just too real.

"So, how are you, Zach?" Okay, so Chris gives a shit about catching up when they're alone and _not_ in front of the group? It's a pretty innocuous thing to ask, but still—

Zach has to say something to stop his internal monologue before it tricks him into blurting something stupid. "Oh, you know, yawping it up, 'n' 'at."

Chris laughs around his words: "You know, you always say that, but you also listen to books on tape as a form of entertainment. And on actual tape."

"Hey, I can sound my barbaric yawp with the best of them."

"Sure you can." Chris is still laughing.

Zach laughs with him. He's about to say something clever, but then Chris glances at him, bright blue and amused, and suddenly his tongue won't cooperate. "Yeah. I really missed you." And they're looking at each other, so they accidentally freeze like that. "Man," Zach tries to add.

Chris redirects his gaze quick, fiddles with his coffee cup. ". . . Yeah."

See usually by this point someone would interject, they'd need to go to makeup, someone would be doing shots and it would be hilarious or _something_ would happen nearby that could believably demand their attention, but the coffee shop is lazy and filled with strangers, and there's only so long they can gulp down their drinks and pretend they aren't scalding hot.

The atmosphere is all wrong, but Zach is getting impatient and God there really is nothing else to talk about all of a sudden: "So yeah. Didn’t we have some kind of pact about chemistry and way too personal method acting and what might potentially happen after filming . . . ?"

Chris raises his eyebrows. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess we did." He clears his throat, leans extremely close extremely fast. "You still wanna do this, huh?" Warm exhaled breath ghosting over Zach's face. "You gonna prove it or what?"

Zach can't remember the right answer, tries to kiss him.

Chris presses a finger to his lips. "But yeah, your eyebrows are like seventy-percent penciled in right now, so." Chris grins, sits back in his seat and sips his coffee. It's hard to tell if Chris even wants him anymore, hard to tell how much of this is just a game they're still half-heartedly clinging to in lieu of actual compatibility.

Zach shoots him a fake glare. ". . . Fuck you, man."

*

On the first night on the world tour Zach is busy organizing his stuff on a low hotel room dresser where it looks and feels out of place when there comes a rapping at his chamber door.

"You're thinking Poe, aren't you," Chris says when Zach opens it, smirking a little before going wide-eyed and serious.

Zach's wary. "Yeah. Nevermore, and tha—"

" _Exactly_." Chris starts kissing him, and it's just impossible to be that much on the same dorky poetical wavelength, isn’t it? God, Zach needs to kiss him a lot more because of it . . .

And has to stop because they're both wearing glasses, and Zach's are kind of digging into his nose. Chris laughs when Zach takes of Chris's glasses too and stows both pairs on the dresser. Red marks on the bridge of Chris's nose, his comfy sit around the house clothes and jet lagged smile—Zach has never seen Chris during any sort of down time, doesn't think he's ever seen him in anything other than jeans or a costume.

Chris sneaks his lips back to Zach's, starts a soft kiss, borderline chaste and _still_ doing a damn good job of turning Zach on. Zach bites lightly at Chris's bottom lip and Chris's knees seem to give out a little—he gets closer and heavier, grips Zach's arms and licks into his mouth and moans.

"Sick of this," Chris pants when breathing becomes a necessity. "Celibacy was a dumb idea, and I sincerely apologize."

"Yeah, the two-plus years of foreplay was a little much. I mean, at this point? We finish each other's—"

"Sandwiches?"

Zach thinks about it. "Actually yeah, that too."

"I mean, it's just. Chemistry. I." Chris looks hypnotized. "Please."

Zach doesn't need to be asked twice. Drags Chris over to the bed and attacks his plain T-shirt and sweat pants, yanks his own shirt over his head and gets Chris's hands running up his chest. When he can kind of see again he finds Chris with his eyes closed, just breathing and touching Zach with shaky hands.

It's happing too fast and flawlessly to _actually_ be happening, right? It certainly reminds Zach of any number of dreams he's had featuring his co-star and—you know what? Zach doesn’t care where that train of thought was going because Chris is pulling Zach down on top of him, hooking a leg around his to keep him there, rolling his hips and breathing a whine.

Kissing Chris lying down is like crossing a weird, invisible threshold. Nothing that happens after this has any chance of being a repeat of some stupid one night stand, and Zach feels oddly liberated. Stops worrying about implications or what happens next or if they're really friends now or ever have been—Chris is urging him closer and moaning into his mouth and setting Zach on fire.

Chris's impossibly hot hands move like magic over Zach's skin, firmly, lightly, and it's so distracting that Zach just grabs them to pin at Chris's sides, gets him to concentrate on their slippery lips instead. Chris _mm_ 's and rolls his hips again and Zach grinds down into him.

Chris tears his mouth away, head flung to the side, and Zach watches little beads of sweat forming at his hairline. "Unn, so good, Zach. Want you . . . really fucking bad." Zach murmurs agreement and sucks on his neck. "God, just let me touch you—"

Zach lets his hands go, shifts so Chris can get Zach's pants off, gets rid of Chris's boxers while he's at it. There's visions of holding Chris down and making him crazy dancing in Zach's head until Chris's hand wraps around his cock and he latches his mouth onto Zach's again like they're magnetic, like it's unthinkable not to kiss.

Chris just traces Zach's cock lightly at first, sends waves of anticipation rushing up Zach's spine, then speeds his hand up gradually and perfectly—Zach can't kiss back anymore, lets Chris lick into the corners of his mouth, suck on his tongue.

Chris drags Zach's hand to his own cock and Zach tries to one-up him as soon as possible, jerks him hard and slow. Chris groans loudly and presses his forehead to Zach's, free hand finding Zach's free hand.

"Oh God," Chris keeps gasping. " _God_. I, I, I—"

"—love you so, so—"

"— _so_ fucking much. _God, Zach_ . . . "

His voice is too much, Zach's too fucking turned on, waited too fucking long, and then Chris spills into his hand, simultaneous with his eyes flying open, so close and bright just for Zach, and Zach follows him with a long, shuddering moan.

The sound of their breathing fills the room while they lay there and sweat, not really pulling away at all, so much so that Zach starts to worry they'll be glued together.

Chris speaks first, quiet and muffled into Zach's neck. " _God_ that was worth the wait."

"Yeah, especially considering we're doing it again in a minute."

"Mm, Spork power, man." Chris tries to slap Zach's hand but hits the comforter instead. "Dammit."

"Yeah, that's probably not gonna work," Zach snickers.

"We can high-five instead of an awkward goodbye kiss tomorrow morning, 'kay?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Chris stretches. "It's nice to finally be alone, you know?"

*


End file.
